Sunday, December 6, 2009
BeautifulBad omen day
accosted by ghosts living dead.
black haze intuding on white wisp of dreams
a meditation cigarette
the first of one too many
what I have been
something different than unusual
hints the influence echoes of the streets
The memory of you as I get lost in your image-ination
stikes the soul as it is tender
that ache that loves immersed in the loss of you
where the heart does not grow or expand
but is annihilated by the constant pounding
compelling unavoidable reminder that its purpose
was to beat for you.
Wait. It was my perception that got me into this to begin with.
There was unrest among the natives
the girl with no shoes (they make her cry)
Dressed in white soiled by the streets
lay on the sidewalk as the cop asked her where she lived
Here, she screamed, as she rolled on the sidewalk
Or somewhere else for some change and a cigarette.
The onlookers laughed, Noone obliged.
they devoured want still want -
an omen of a nature which partakes of no change
happiness a weakness something sentimental once lived Here,
See a spare view on airflow following those who use her
into not human.
whispers shape the place there where you are not.
Is there such a thing as a spare cigarette?
her mean laughter moves through the streets where she lays a whore.
Existence exists to trample hearts, crush souls
I cut down the didn't follow path
where the world is still breathing.
finches fly free
Why would anyone lock them in a cage?